


First Watch

by Bohemienne



Series: MCU Prompts, Ficlets, and Drabbles [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, World War II, the Howling Commandos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/pseuds/Bohemienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for prompt: "How about some good, old-fashioned cliché, 'but we're supposed to be keeping watch' Steve X Bucky WWII fic?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Watch

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for prompt from literarymagpie on Tumblr for MY GREATEST WEAKNESS--WWII Stucky! [Send me prompts](http://starandshield.tumblr.com)!

They’ve been standing out here long enough for their breaths to turn from vapor to fog to crystals to sheets of ice, and even Steve’s toes are starting to tingle. The forest is so still he can hear the Commandos breathing in their tents five hundred yards away. Every crunch of snow under their boots sounds like a gunshot. There’s no chance some Hydra goon in their stiff leather coats could sneak up on them—not after they left two dozen of them dead earlier—but protocol must be followed. So Steve claimed.

“That’s real rich, coming from you,” Bucky had said, and just for that Cap puts Bucky on first watch with him, not that it seems like much of a punishment.

The first acorn pings off the crown of Steve’s head, snapping him out of his half-asleep stupor. Jumping to his feet, he looks up to the branch where Bucky’s seated above him, legs swinging, sly grin gleaming in the reflection of the snow.

“Watch it, Sarge.”

“You were dozing off,” Bucky replies.

Steve rubs the top of his head with a gloved hand. “Sorry. Pretty dead out here.”

“Come up here. I’ll liven it up.”

Steve chokes back a surprised laugh. In this winter air, they can probably hear him halfway across the Alps. “Keep it down, Sarge. We’re supposed to be on watch.”

“Like we were supposed to be in Nice?” Bucky asks. The tree branch groans, and powdery snow sprinkles down onto Steve’s shoulders. “Or Stuben? Ohh, or how about on the shores of Lago Maggiore, you seemed real concerned about an attack on the shore there …”

“Bucky, stop.” Steve’s face is burning red as a furnace now as the memories of those other missions—or the nights after them—stoke the embers in his chest. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why? You never do.”

Steve suppresses another cough. A pair of laced-up boots dangle in front of his face, then dark wool jodhpurs, and then a pale strip of skin, lean with muscle, its hard lines vanishing up beneath a thick blue coat. Suddenly, the bitter late-night cold seems like a distant memory.

“A little help here?” Bucky asks, dangling from the branch. “Sun’s almost up anyway.”

“Sorry.”

Steve catches Bucky by the waist, the exposed tips of his fingers in the motorcycle gloves clinging to Bucky’s torso and bunching up his jacket as he drops down into the snow.

“Well, hello, handsome.” Bucky’s words hang between them in a tuft of white. They’re face to face now, Steve’s fingers searing into the firm flesh at Bucky’s hips, and Bucky slings his arms over Steve’s shoulders with his wickedest grin. Steve can’t quite bring himself to let go; his breath feels lodged in his throat.

“Th—the watch, Buck.” He tries to sound as commanding as he can, but it isn’t so easy when he feels flushed enough to melt the snow all around them.

Bucky traces the tip of his nose against Steve’s wind-chapped cheeks. He smells like pine and smoke, and Steve just wants to drink it in. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it. Bucky’s lips hover a hair’s breadth over his, taunting him to lean in.

“So keep watching,” Bucky says.

Steve lets his breath out in a shudder, then drags Bucky’s hips against his. “No, you’re right.” He runs his thumbs in slow circles around Bucky’s stomach, drawing a whimper from Bucky. “I was never good with protocol.”


End file.
